The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes by Anna McPartlin Page B

bus?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Looks like it.’ She delved into the bags she had put on the bed. ‘So, I found this little place that does the most incredible nightwear.’ She took out a beautiful black silk nightdress and matching dressing-gown. ‘Feel it,’ she said.
    Rabbit did so. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
    ‘It’s yours.’
    ‘No,’ Rabbit said. ‘That’s something you wear on a dirty weekend. It doesn’t belong in a place like this.’
    ‘Well, neither do you, but here you are. It’s yours.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘And look,’ she said, her hands disappearing into another bag, ‘for Juliet.’ It was a pretty sundress with cool gold gladiator sandals.
    ‘She’ll love them,’ Rabbit said.
    ‘And I’ve got more for you.’ She picked up a bag from the floor, but by the time she’d pulled out a woolly cardigan Rabbit was sound asleep. Marjorie slumped into the chair, all pretence gone. Her eyes filled and, without making a sound, she allowed fat tears to roll down both cheeks. She stared at her best friend and it was as though, Davey thought, she was looking at someone she didn’t quite recognize. The woman in the bed wasn’t her Rabbit. Rabbit had lost a lot of weight in the past two weeks, her skin was paler and dry, her shaved head clammy, and her knuckles dwarfed her fingers. She was an odd colour, somewhere between grey and blue. The last time they’d seen one another, Marjorie had been in town shopping for her trip and Rabbit had come from the newsroom to meet her for a coffee. She was wearing her blonde wig and makeup; her skin was clear, following an intense facial she’d had the day before.
    ‘It was just two weeks ago,’ Marjorie whispered.
    Davey moved across the room to her, took Marjorie’s hand and they walked outside together. The canteen was still open.
    ‘Come on,’ he said.
    Over coffee, Marjorie filled Davey in on Rabbit’s struggle during the past year. ‘It’s been hard. Every blow took that much more out of her.’
    ‘She’s still fighting,’ he said.
    ‘I know.’ Marjorie’s eyes filled. ‘And it’s only going to get worse from now.’
    Davey didn’t say anything. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t ready to accept it. He just stirred his coffee with one hand and rapped the table with the other. Neither had the will to make small-talk, or the stomach to engage in their usual flirty banter. They drank their coffee, lost in their own misery.
    ‘I should go,’ Marjorie said, and stood up.
    ‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ Davey said.
    ‘No need. You go back to Rabbit.’
    They walked together along the hallway to Rabbit’s door. They stopped and faced one another.
    ‘I was really sorry to hear about the divorce.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘I’ve never apologized for my part in it . . .’
    She stopped him by placing her hand on his arm and shaking her head. ‘No, honestly, it wasn’t you, it was me. Neil is a lovely man and I did love him once, but then I didn’t and I faced sleepwalking through the rest of my life or . . .’
    ‘Cheating with me.’
    ‘Being with you woke me up and I’m grateful.’
    ‘How about Neil? Is he grateful?’
    ‘He’s seeing someone else and she’s pregnant. I hear they’re very happy.’
    She looks sad. I should never have gone there. I’m a selfish arsehole.
‘I should have kept in touch.’
    ‘No. You shouldn’t. I didn’t want you to.’
    ‘Rabbit was keeping me up to date with everything. She said you handled yourself so well despite everyone piling in to judge and criticize.’
Christ, I could at least have sent an email. What the hell is wrong with me?
    ‘Every marriage break-up needs a bad guy.’
    ‘Is your mother talking to you yet?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘My mother is a cold bitch, Davey. She always has been. Why do you think I spent so much time at your place when we were kids? I would have killed to have a mother like yours.’
    ‘I thought it was because of me,’ he said, and they